


Rapture's Blessing

by InsaneandBloody



Category: BioShock
Genre: and like a handful of little sisters, happy endings, post-rapture, some jack angst too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneandBloody/pseuds/InsaneandBloody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was many things, he thought – a child, a monster, a murderer – but not a saint. Never a saint. </p><p>Sometimes, however, Jack believed he was less of a monster than they had intended him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rapture's Blessing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClockworkDinosaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkDinosaur/gifts).



Jack was, by no means, a saint. His hands were stained red, metaphorically now, from dozens of sinful acts, his veins ached for something he would never quite shake. He had killed, destroyed, lost who he was. Jack was many things, he thought – a child, a monster, a murderer – but not a saint. Never a saint. 

Sometimes, however, Jack believed he was less of a monster than they had intended him to be. 

It had been a little under a year since they had first surfaced, since Jack had dragged the bathysphere on to the sands and offered his hand to five little girls. It was a time of struggles for all of them, but Jack smiled through the hardships and lead them forward, leading by example, teaching them everything they had missed while buried beneath the ocean.

After months of smoothing down their anxieties, it all began to pay off: Leta no longer cried at the sight of the open sky; Maura had stopped drawing roses and moved on to sunny fields and smiling characters, and Elena had finally grown out of her night terrors. Mornings were spent bustling about the kitchen instead of cradling the girls in both arms after a bad night’s rest. It put him at ease to hear such mellow voices in their home, to hear them playing and laughing and being children again.

Jack spent half the day doing odd-jobs for neighbors for money, and used nearly all of it to support his girls. Food, toiletries, furnishings – and an occasional trip downtown to see the sights. It was a treat for all of them, Jack thought, exposing them to new experiences every time. Tenenbaum had begun to step back as well, knowing full well that Jack was capable of handling the children himself, and found her own housing a few blocks away. She still visited every week or so, bringing Jack canned goods when funds ran thin and offering him company when he fell into a slump.

Soon, the name Rapture had fallen out of their vocabulary entirely. No more “Mr. Bubbles,” no angels or ADAM or splicers. It was a blessing to him, no longer burdening these children with their past – with his past. The girls were homeschooled, giving Jack all the more excuse to learn surface life as they did, and he cherished every moment of true enlightenment they experienced. Mascha had been fascinated when she first saw the automobiles that lined every street, telling Jack how much she had read about them in the new book Mama Tenenbaum had brought for her, how they came in different shapes and colors and which ones were her favorite. Veronica would point up at the sun and tell him how much warmer it was up here, and that she loved it, and how she loved the feeling of fresh grass and the smell of daisies that wafted through the air by their apartment. 

Jack was not a saint. He would never forget what he had done, never rid himself of the itching guilt and self-doubt that had conjured up in Rapture. He would never forget the people he couldn’t save, the ones that died in front of his eyes. But Jack would also never forget the girls that made life worth living, the reason that he fought so hard and stayed strong for. Jack had taught them of everything they had missed on the surface – and, in turn, they taught him everything he had missed in a family.

Maybe he wasn’t a monster.


End file.
